break,

Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake? That dawn never beam'd on your forefathers' eye, But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die.

O sprung from the Kings who in Italy kept state, Proud chiefs of Clan-Ranald, Glengary, and Sleat! Combine like three streams from one mountain of

snow,

And resistless in union rush down on the foe!

True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel, Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy steel!

Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell,

Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell!

Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale!

May the race of Clan-Gillian, the fearless and free, Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee !

Let the clan of gray Fingon, whose offspring has given

Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven,
Unite with the race of renown'd Rorri More,
To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar!

How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display

The yew-crested bonnet o'er tresses of gray!
How the race of wrong'd Alpine and murder'd
Glencoe

ire!

May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire!

Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore!

Or die, like your sires, and endure it no more!

"As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood be fore them, and immediately commenced with a theatrical air,"

O Lady of the desert, hail!

That lovest the harping of the Gael, Through fair and fertile regions borne, Where never yet grew grass or corr.

"But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a Highland Helicon-Allons, courage"

O vous, qui buvez à tasse pleine,
A cette heureuse fontaine,
Où on ne voit sur le rivage

Que quelques vilains troupeaux, Suivis de nymphes de village,

Qui les escortent sans sabots

Chap. xxii.

(10.)-LINES ON CAPTAIN WOGAN.

He had originally engaged in the service of the

Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More! Mac-Niel of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake, For honor, for freedom, for vengeance awake!

Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake!

"Tis the bugle-but not for the chase is the call; "Tis the pibroch's shrill summons-but not to the

hall.

"Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath;

They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.

execution of Charles I.; and upon hearing that the royal standard was set up by the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton in the Highlands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II, who was then at Paris, passed into England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the neighborhood of London, and traversed the kingdom, which had been so long under domination of the usurper, by marches conducted with such skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms. After several months of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and courage gained him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance being within reach, he terminated his short but glorious career."

The Verses were inscribed,

NIGHT and morning were at meeting
Over Waterloo;

Cocks had sung their earliest greeting;
Faint and low they crew;

For no paly beam yet shone
On the heights of Mount Saint John;
Tempest-clouds prolong'd the sway
Of timeless darkness over day;
Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower,
Mark'd it a predestined hour.
Broad and frequent through the night
Flash'd the sheets of levin-light;
Muskets, glancing lightnings back,
Show'd the dreary bivouac

Where the soldier lay,

Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain,
Wishing dawn of morn again,

Though death should come with day.
II.

"Tis at such a tide and hour,

Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,
And ghastly forms through mist and shower
Gleam on the gifted ken;

And then the affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear
Presaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men ;—
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
'Twas then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who, for many a day,
Had follow'd stout and stern,

Where, through battle's rout and reel,

4 Originally published in 1815, in the Edinburgh Annua Register, vol. v.

MS.-" Dawn and darkness."'

Storm of shot and hedge of steel, Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassiefern.

Through steel and shot he leads no more,
Low laid 'mid friends' and foemen's gore-
But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Sunart rough, and high Ardgower,
And Morven long shall tell,

And proud Bennevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra
Of conquest as he fell.'

III.

'Lone on the outskirts of the host,
The weary sentinel held post,

And heard, through darkness far aloof,
The frequent clang2 of courser's hoof,

Where held the cloak'd patrol their course, And spurr'd 'gainst storm the swerving horse;

But there are sounds in Allan's ear,

Patrol nor sentinel may hear,

And sights before his eye aghast
Invisible to them have pass'd,

When down the destined plain,

"Twixt Britain and the bands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteor's glance,
Strange phantoms wheel'd a revel dance,
And doom'd the future slain.-

Such forms were seen, such sounds were

heard,

When Scotland's James his march prepared, For Flodden's fatal plain;

Such, when he drew his ruthless sword,

As Choosers of the Slain, adored

The yet unchristen'd Dane.

An indistinct and phantom band,

They wheel'd their ring-dance hand in hand,

With gestures wild and dread;

The Seer, who watch'd them ride the storm,
Saw through their faint and shadowy form
The lightning's flash more red;

And still their ghastly roundelay
Was of the coming battle-fray,
And of the destined dead.

IV. Song.

"Wheel the wild dance While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,

And call the brave

To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

1 See note, ante, p. 509.

2 MS.-" Oft came the clang " &c.